A Dark World
by JudithAndHolofernes
Summary: Lydia has been missing in mysterious and tragic circumstances for over a decade, and at the request of her father, Betel goes looking for his almost bride. Can he save her from the darkness that is now her life? (Reincarnated 2010 FF from a lost story of mine called The Darkworld). Beetlejuice/Lydia, historical figures, vampires, some Toonverse characters.
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : I started this fic at a different point of my life over eight years ago under a different account name that I am unable to recover (MELANCOLIAI), under the name **The Darkworld**.

For some reason, that damn plot bunny Bunnicula came back to me, all these years later, after watching Beetlejuice for the umpteenth billionth time.

Not many people read that story (to the five who reviewed: thank you!), but the four chapters posted will be re-posted here and updated for editing.

The story starts around two decades after the movie, Beetlejuice. (So around present time.) It will have some elements of the cartoon, but mostly Movieverse. Be forewarned, this is _not_ a fluffy, funny story, there will be plenty of violence, blood, angst, and possibly some lemons, as well as some scenes that are not for the faint of heart. You have been warned. This is rated "M" for a reason.

Some characters are based on real world historical figures.

 _ **Prologue**_

Lydia Deetz had no idea why she cared what happened in the world of the humans any longer. She was as different from them as literally the night was to day. She was now darkness; the humans were light. She vaguely remembered during her earlier life saying something to the effect that her life was one, big, darkroom… Now it was a big and eternally dark world.

So why did she continue to come back here? Why did she continue to torture herself in this way? Why come back to a place that was memories, that was so far from her "life" as it was now that it might as well not exist?

She idly twisted the odd old ring around on the ring finger of her left hand. She remembered it from the memories of this place. It was the only tangible thing she had remaining to her from before. She wondered yet again why out of everything she had had, all she had managed to hold onto was this one thing... The ring from a memory that wasn't the most pleasant of the many from "before".

Lydia's head snapped up and she leaned closer into the sparse, dried foliage of the tree limb she crouched on as a light blinked on on the porch of the oddly-shaped house in front of and below her. Her eyes changed as the colors of her irises swirled from their normal deep, dark brown to an eerily red hue with a piercing shine from light refraction Her pupils reacted to the sudden light and shifted from their normal, large round shape to a slit of vertical black as she focused on the opened door which revealed an elderly-looking, frail man who came out into the light that spilled across the porch and part of the night-darkened lawn.

"Lydia? Is that you out there? Pumpkin, come inside, it's cold, and we miss you. Come back in, Lydia..."

Lydia's eyes suddenly seemed to be malfunctioning, they were becoming watery. She blinked quickly a couple of times, and a red-tinged tear traitorously slipped down her ashen white cheek as her eyes slowly went back to their normal dark hue.

"Charles? Charles, come inside. What are you doing? You have to stop this...She's gone, honey, you have to stop. Come back inside. I'll ask Barbara to make you some of her hot cocoa that you love. Come inside, dear, that's right..." Lydia watched as the woman who used to be her stepmother gently wrapped her soothing, coaxing words and arms around the man who used to be her father and brought him back inside the house which used to be her home.

The man looked out into the darkness again before his wife led him back into the light, and for one brief moment, Lydia could have sworn that their eyes met in the night.

The door slowly closed shut and Lydia's preternatural hearing heard the double _snicks_ of the locks being thrown even over the distance and the low humming noise of the wind, which had picked up and was blowing her long, black hair around her face, creating a momentary chiaroscuro of dark and light shapes in front of her eyes.

She turned like quicksilver on the branch and leaped from the limb to the soon-to-be frozen ground and ran, too quickly for a human's eyes to see, darkness moving through darkness, into the night, and away from the memories and the pain.

She ran to outrun the knowledge of the pain she had caused. The pain that she wasn't able to protect them from. She tried to run from the pain she lived with, every night.

She never could outrun it.


	2. Chapter 1: A Father's Wish

_**Chapter 1: A Father's Wish**_

Charles Deetz had never been a "calm" sort of man. The whole reason why he had moved his small and quirky family to Winter River, Connecticut twenty years before was because of this very fact. His nerves simply could not handle the daily stress and hustle of the City any longer. He had thought he had made the right decision then, as he still did now. Yes, Delia had needed time to adjust, and yes, things were more chaotic than the City could be at its worst for a bit there when they had first moved into the old farmhouse, but after the initial settling in and the "getting to know their _very_ close neighbors" phase, things had been good. He still didn't think his back was ever the same after that crazy ghost had dropped him off the second floor landing, but everything had turned out alright in the long run.

He had made two new friends who eventually become family to him as well, who were, alright, he could admit it, _dead_ , but still "normal", good old apple pie American country folk. They were wonderful for his daughter Lydia, as well as the rest of the family. Sure, his view on the world had done a complete 180, but he liked to think of himself as more "enlightened" now.

Or, he used to feel that way. He used to, quite simply, feel.

He only felt a small range of emotions now. Loss. Anger. Fear. Remorse. Confusion. Despair.

After the whole almost-exorcism of Barbara and Adam, and the arrival and grand departure of the self-proclaimed "bio-exorcist", things had settled down and become as normal as possible for a household that consisted of a neurotic businessman, a slightly deranged modern " _artiste_ ", a morose teenager, and two dead people who were forced to stay in the house for the next century-and-a-quarter or be eaten by giant, striped worms.

You know, normal. Well, at least normal for them.

It had been good.

Lydia had brightened and blossomed under the friendship and co-parenting of the Maitlands, who had never been able to have children of their own in life. Charles felt no envy towards Barbara and Adam about their closeness with Lydia. He and Delia had been trying their hardest, but there had still been something Lydia needed, something that was missing from their little family. Charles had thought that it was the City's dark influence on her that had made Lydia so morbid, and yes, suicidal, and it very well might have, but he eventually realized it was Lydia's very love for the "strange and unusual" and her rare and innate ability to see the Dead and communicate with them that made her the unique gem of a girl she was.

Barbara and Adam were as far from the City in mentality you could get and still be on the same continent, and the whole lifestyle and fresh, country air had breathed new life into all of the Deetzs.

And they had had a good life for a good five years. Lydia finished growing up to be a bright, stunningly beautiful and talented young woman who was ready to take on the world when she and her best friends had gone on a tour of Europe after her High School graduation that Delia had convinced him into, saying that every girl should be able to go "on the tour". It was one of the wonderful experiences of growing up. He had let her go with a hug and prayers (and an American Express platinum card, of course), but he knew she had a good head on her shoulders and would be just fine. She had returned, with lots of stories and wonderful photographs of all she had seen and done. She had decided to go off university for the photography and writing she loved so dearly.

Through it all, she always came home, always was his little Pumpkin.

Charles reached over to the side table next to his rocking chair and grasped a picture frame with slightly trembling hands. A tear rolled down his prematurely aged and wrinkled cheek as he looked at the face he knew and remembered so well, the face he wished more than anything, _anything,_ in the world just to see again, even if it was for one bright moment, in this world or the Neitherworld, in Heaven or even Hell, he would do _anything_ just to see her again.

It had come as a shock, as tragedy does to any family. When tragedy happens, it tears your world to shreds. All that is normal is twisted and mutated, a dark shadow of your former life.

Lydia had been going to an old prestigious, small university in a close suburb of the City. She had had her choice in universities and colleges, but she had decided on Peaceful Pines because of the high scholastic rating of its liberal arts programs and its relative closeness to home in Connecticut.

They had gotten the phone call that every parent prays they never will receive one cold November early morning. There had been a break-in at the dormitory that Lydia and several other girls lived at. A fire had been set.

No one had made it out alive.

After the initial shock and denial, and then pure and utter panic, the family as a whole had hunkered down and awaited Lydia's arrival back home, albeit as a ghost. They all mourned the loss of Lydia's wonderful life and future, but they hadn't been mourning _her_. The Maitlands were "living" proof that life went on after the body's death, and the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ had explained in overly-technical terminology that once Lydia realized what had happened, she would be home with her family as a ghost, and then they would be able to start to pull the pieces of Lydia's shattered life together.

Charles and the rest of the family readily agreed that Lydia considered the house in Winter River as "home". She would return there and begin her unfortunately mandatory one-hundred-and-twenty-five year "haunting". Although things would be drastically different, they knew she would still be with them.

She didn't return.

As the first day went on and Charles and Delia started to panic, Barbara and Adam had searched their memories of when they were freshly dead. They reiterated to the distraught Deetzs that time in the Realworld ran much, much quicker than time in the Neitherworld. They couldn't remember how long it took them to arrive back home after their last "swim" in the Winter River, but they remembered it had been early morning when they had died and it had been dark by the time they had arrived back home, and not on the same day. They did their best to calm Charles and Delia by rehashing their memories and facts from the book, and tried to calm themselves as well.

More information came in from the authorities. The alarm at the dorm had never gone off. It had either malfunctioned, which was very odd, or whomever had broken in had known the code. Knowing the codes to the individual dorm houses wasn't a rarity as the students always seemed to ignore the warnings of security and let their friends and significant others in on the codes for easier access. Campus security was apparently pretty certain of the latter situation, as were the State Police, who had been called in after the local police department had arrived at the scene initially and immediately knew they needed help.

The police were inquiring with the girl's families to see if any of them had called or written home about a particularly abusive relationship or a breakup gone very bad. School counselors were on hand to try to offer any clues and to help with grief management and the post-traumatic hysteria that was reigning across the once peaceful university.

The dormitory had been turned into a charnel house for the once lively and active girls.

The intruder or intruders had come in, had apparently methodically gone from room to room and brutally slashed all of the girl's throats, cleanly severing their jugular veins while they still were lying in their beds. The preliminary forensics analysis coming in was they had all, to a one, bled to death before they were burned, some horribly so, and many of the girls had been "interfered with".

The Deetzs and Maitlands were horrified at the thought of Lydia laying in her bed, her life slowly draining from her body after being brutally violated, but were slightly relieved knowing that although she had suffered through all of it she hadn't had to deal with the additional torture of burning to death. Barbara and Adam were quiet about the man they had seen in the Waiting Room who had burned in his bed... They were somewhat mollified knowing that poor Lydia wouldn't have to return like him. She had already been through enough.

Night fell, and still no Lydia.

By the next morning, after a brutal night, Barbara and Adam drew the chalk door in the attic to the Waiting Room and warned the Deetzs they might be gone for awhile and they were going to go see Juno again after over half a decade. They didn't want to add to Charles' and Delia's worries, but they were growing concerned themselves. What if Lydia had returned, confused, and was still at the dormitory? They needed to bring her home.

Charles and Delia waited another forty-eight hours.

Lydia still had not returned.

On the third night, the doorbell rang, and they rushed to the door. When they opened it, they couldn't hide their looks of disappointment when they saw the two plain clothes officers on the porch.

They came inside at their bidding, and everyone sat down in the living room. The officers explained to a yet again shocked Charles and Delia that they could not identify any of the remains as that of Lydia's, and would they please come with them to view a live-video of the found remains to see if they could possibly help in identifying any of the deceased. They gently explained that they needed the name of Lydia's dentist to retrieve any x-rays on file that he might have to help in the identification as well. They again expressed their sympathies and expressed their understanding of how difficult this was.

Even though the Deetzs knew that the human soul continues on after death, with the Maitlands not being currently present as a 'solid" reminder that this was so, and faced with the horrific fact of what is left behind by a human life in the aftermath of a violent tragedy, Charles and Delia both started weeping again, mourning anew the loss of Lydia's beautiful and special life.

As Charles held his sobbing wife, he was wondering exactly what had happened and why his baby girl hadn't returned to them yet.

Delia was simply unable to handle the thought of viewing the spent shells of so many bright young lives left shattered. Charles wound up going with the officers without her. Otho, who had arrived from the City while the officers were still speaking with the Deetzs after receiving a call from Delia and seeing the news on television and newspapers, found it in himself to volunteer to go with Charles in support.

The media was having a field day with the case - they were calling it "The Vampire Murders", due to it having been leaked to the press, as always happens, that the bodies of the girls had been drained of blood before the fire was set.

Charles had left Winter River's Police Station more scarred emotionally then even before. He would never, ever be able to forget the grainy images of the charred, pitiful corpses of the girls on the television screen they set up in a private room for he and Otho to view. Otho was continuously wiping his ever perspiring face with a monogrammed handkerchief after having left the viewing room to be violently ill in a restroom in the hall outside.

Charles had calmly asked the police if anyone had found a… body… with a heavy, ornate gold ring on their left ring finger. The officers had looked at each other for a moment before one officer who randomly reminded Charles of that actor ' _What was his name, oh yes, Tommy Lee Jones_ ' he thought to himself, picked up a phone and called the county morgue where they were still continuously working on the remains. After a few different transfers and speaking with a few different people on the line, the officer hung up, then turned to Charles and told him that they had not found any jewelry as he had described on any of the remains. The officer had watched Charles closely to gauge his reactions.

Charles closed his eyes and silently, to himself, began to have a flicker of an idea, a prayer… What if?

The officer had continued to watch Charles before he let drop another piece of hope into his mind and heart.

There had been thirteen girls living in the dorm. There had been only eleven bodies found.

The twelfth girl had been at her boyfriend's apartment near the campus. She had called campus security in hysterics when she saw the carnage on the morning news the morning after the killings.

They had still not been able to account for one girl. They had contacted every family, and none had yet to have their child come home to them.

They had identified all of the other girls, except for Lydia.

The officer looked at Charles and with feigned casualness, asked him if perhaps his daughter had an ex-fiance or boyfriend, since Charles had mentioned a ring on her left ring finger, who maybe held a very large grudge against her, and if so, where he might be found?

Again, Charles closed his eyes. Could it possibly be? Could the deranged ghost who had tried to marry his fifteen-year-old daughter five years before be possibly _that_ much of a vengeful monster?

He thought hard, searching his memories and feelings, deeply. Beetlejuice was a maniac, and he had been violent, but he had never actually killed anyone in the short while that he had known him. Granted, he might have been killed being dropped of the second floor balcony, and Otho could have broken his neck falling down the stairs, and the Deans might have been killed going through the roof... As a matter of fact, they _should_ have been killed going through the roof. They only had really bad headaches and had developed a supreme denial complex after the incident, not even a scratch on their physical bodies.

No, the ghost he had met wasn't capable of the sadistic, twisted violence, the utter destruction, of the lives of these innocent girls.

Charles looked up. "No, officer, Lydia never mentioned anyone like that in her life. She had that ring for over five years, it's a... Family heirloom." The officer nodded slowly in response.

Otho shot Charles a glance but didn't say anything until they had left and were in the car by themselves, after promising to let the officers know if they heard anything from Lydia or if he remembered something else that might help.

"Charles...could it possibly be that awful Beetle..."

"No, Otho! Don't say his name. And no, I don't believe he would do anything like that. I know what he did to us, and I'm sure he wasn't _happy_ about the Sandworm thing, but we don't even know if he still is alive… I mean, exists, we haven't heard a thing in all these years. Barbara and Adam would have let us know." At the mention of the Maitlands, Otho inadvertently flinched, still feeling guilty after all the time passed since his botched "exorcism".

"Otho, the ghost we met was crazier than a shit-house bat, and I could see him wreaking havoc as revenge, tearing up the house with his carnival tricks, throwing us all around a bit again. But what happened to those girls was on a whole other level… It was evil."

"Where is she then, Charles? If she died, she'd be back at the house, correct? If she's still alive, then where..."

"Otho, ENOUGH! We'll find Lydia, as a ghost or… Alive. We'll... We'll find her."

Otho sat silently, hoping that his friend was right, and that he wasn't having false hopes.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, they found the Maitlands had arrived back and were consoling a crying Delia. Charles smelled cigarette smoke and turned around.

"Charles, you better sit down. I think you all are going to have to hear this a few times before any of this can be understood. Hell, I don't even understand exactly what has happened." Juno's raspy voice cut through the fog of smoke and the fog in Charles' head.

"Mr. and Mrs. Deetz, like I told the Maitlands, Lydia didn't die in the massacre at her college. We have records and have accounted for the other eleven souls of the girls who were killed, but there is no record of Lydia among them."

Juno said, taking a long drag on her cigarette holder.

"Oh, my god...she's still alive?" Charles sank into the nearest chair, his rocking chair. "My baby's still alive! Where is she then? Why hasn't she..." He stopped, a sob coming from his throat as his mind started to work around what Juno was saying.

"Oh, god, oh my god… Is she being held captive? Does that monster have her? The man who killed those girls, DOES HE HAVE HER?!" He had stood up and in his desperation, had grasped Juno by her bony little shoulders and had actually shaken her a bit in his panic.

"Mr. Deetz, please, this is not going to do any of you any good. I don't know who, or what, has your daughter, or if, indeed she is being held captive. I can only expostulate on the facts."

"Juno, tell me...is it Beetle...?"

"NO, Charles, don't say his name. We still have him in the Neitherworld under house arrest, but the binding on his name still stands. If you call him three times, he will come."

"But Juno, I'm asking if, did he...?" Charles trailed off for a second, still holding onto Juno, at this point, almost to hold himself upright.

"No, Mr. Deetz, Betel was at his residence in the Neitherworld at the time of the murders." She paused to take another long pull off of her cigarette. "Betel is many things, Charles, but he isn't a cold blooded killer. I've known him a long, long time. He isn't that. And yes, I checked myself, he was definitely in the Neitherworld at the time."

Charles let go of Juno and slumped back into his rocking chair. He would never really leave it again for very long for the next decade and a half or so of his life. You see, he had a straight view of the front door and the back door to the house from it, and the phone was right on the table next to him. This way, when his Pumpkin came home, his would be the first face she saw when she came through the door, or he would be the first to pick up her call when it came.

"Charles, you have to face the facts… If Lydia could come home, or if she was dead, she would have done so already. And yes, I checked the entire perimeter around the campus to make sure she wasn't lost, either alive or... Dead." Juno was trying to be diplomatic. "I've checked throughout the Neitherworld on the off chance she slipped through the records, sometimes that happens in a particularly, ah, violent death. I even..." She paused, wondering how the Deetzs and the Maitlands would handle the tidbit of information she was about to give them. "I even spoke with Betel, Charles. He was aware that something had happened to Lydia."

Delia looked up quickly from her prostrate position in Barbara's arms. Both of the women looked almost feral at the mention of the poltergeist's name.

"If that damn demon didn't have something to do with it, then how did he know what happened to Lydia?" Barbara spit the words out.

"Mrs. Maitland, he doesn't know _what_ happened, he just knew _something_ happened. He felt it through their bond, through the ring." Juno took another drag, seemingly trying to calm herself, as well as the others. "You know that although the marriage wasn't finalized, he did manage to get the ring on her finger. The ring she has been unable or unwilling to take off since the... Incident. The ring binds her in a small way to Betel, and always will. And by the way, Barbara, he's a poltergeist, not a demon, although he tries to trump himself up as one. He'll never be, though, he just doesn't have it in him, as much as he brags about how bad he is." Juno snorted in derision and a bit of almost affection.

Adam, speaking for the first time in what seemed like days, looked up at Juno, pushing his glasses back up on their rightful place on the bridge of his nose.

"Juno, was the… man ... or … thing, that did this to those girls, that took Lydia from us, was it a demon?"

"Mr. Maitland, there was no demonic activity registered at the dormitory. Demons are different than ghosts and poltergeists - they were never human. I can assure you, if it was … a fully dead human, it might bypass the Neitherworld altogether and the Lost Souls Room and go straight to hell. Its soul is so tainted by its actions, so dark..." She trailed off with a shiver. "Those types I luckily don't have to deal with. The Bundys and the Dahmers, they fall to another jurisdiction. So do other... Types."

Everyone in the room fell silent as they contemplated her words.

"So Pumpkin will come back to us eventually, right? I mean..." Charles broke off as large tears started rolling down his face, unheeded. "One way or another, our baby will come home, either alive… Or if that thing… Kills her." He dropped his face into his hands, as the whole family thought about Charles' words and what they imparted. To die a horrible death relatively quickly was bad enough, but if she was being kept, and tortured... Who or what would come home to them?

They had all seemed to agree to take the murderer's humanity away. "It" was a given.

"Yes, Charles, I believe one day we'll have her back." Juno had included herself in the loss. "I will be doing everything in my power, and more, to help this to happen. We just have to wait. I know how hard that is, the not knowing, but that's all we can do."

Charles looked up. "If Betel has a… connection to Lydia, then can he find her?" The hope was obvious in his voice.

"No, Charles, he can't. I believe he would if he could. Believe it or not, he was quite upset himself when I arrived and explained what happened."

"Why does that monster even care?" Delia mumbled derisively. Otho nodded as he stroked Delia's shoulder repeatedly, as he was comforting himself as well in the gesture. He was making a strong front for the family of his best friend and client.

"Believe it or not, Betel does have a heart. Obviously, he wasn't exactly pleased that Barbara got him eaten by a Sandworm, but he's not heartless. He was agitated because something about the bond had changed on the ring, he could feel it, and when I showed up and I explained the circumstances of what happened, I actually had to cast a stronger binding to his residence to keep him put. He wanted to try to find her."

"Let him." Charles said, visibly shocking everyone in the room.

"No, Charles, he'll only wreak more havoc on an already chaotic tragedy. He can't find her."

"Do you KNOW he can't find her, or you won't let him?" Charles asked, looking Juno in the eye.

"I don't think he can, Charles. The binding doesn't work that way. Let that be. You have to wait. Do what you can in your world, I'll do what I can in mine. Stay strong for her."

And wait is what they did. For fifteen years. Charles grew elderly before his time. Delia retreated into her sculptures even more than she already had, their subject matter growing even darker. The Maitlands drifted around, taking it upon themselves to take care of their suffering and living family. Charles rarely left his rocking chair, and he always had the picture of Lydia on the day she left for university near at hand, her smile giving him a glimmer of hope. He thought and pondered on how to get his Pumpkin back. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would feel her presence. Just slightly. Maybe it was just a father's wish. But he'd always go outside and call to her, just in case.


	3. Chapter 2: Thinking

_**Chapter 2: Thinking**_

Betel Geuse was engaging in his usual way of dealing with things that bothered him with the rotgut shit they called alcohol in the Neitherworld.

He. Was. BORED. A bored Betel Geuse was a storm of mayhem waiting to happen. A bored Betel thought... And a thinking Betel wasn't always a good thing.

He had a few jobs over the years, the usual pissy sort of stuff, the type where the ghosts couldn't or wouldn't make the effort to get the damn Living out of their homes themselves. Hey, made life interestin', though, when he got the call for a job.

Never got another chance for interesting like he had a few years back with the Deetz girl, though. Nope. And, nope, he wasn't gonna start thinkin' 'bout her again, either, fat lot of good that did. He was still stuck in the Neitherworld, and she was... Well, he didn't know where the hell she was, and he didn't like to dwell on that too much either.

Fact o' the matter was, he dwelt upon it, far too much. That night fifteen years or so back, it felt like a hole was being burnt into his throat, and his ring finger burned, too. Made no sense, he hadn't been able to seal the deal with the kid to have a complete binding, but somehow he knew the pain (which Betel _never_ felt anymore, not unless some absolute moron tried to exorcise him.. That stinged a little) had something to do with… Lydia.

Damn. There he went, thinking about her name again. Betel decided thinkin' did him no good at all.

Thinking made him think back to twenty years ago. When those Maitland losers called him to get rid of that crazy City family. Huh, and they thought he was weird? That dye job redhead was as weird as they came. And Chucky? Well, Chucky was a few beer cans short of a six pack, marrying that redheaded dame, and nervous as a seven-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. And Round Boy? Huh, he was unto a class all his own.

The girl, though, she was something else…

He remembered when he first saw her, all dark baggy clothes and makeup so heavy he couldn't even properly see her facial features except for those huge dark eyes.

Betel shook himself. Nope, not goin' there.

He'd been amazed that even while his powers were subdued to the point he was about two inches high and stuck in the damned model due to the damn binding on his name, she could see him, could even _talk_ to him. Not many of the Living were able to do that. He'd been around over six-hundred years, and he hadn't run into that before. She'd been somethin' else entirely.

Betel definitely didn't think of himself as the getting hitched and settlin' down sort of guy, but, there was the nice convenient little loophole in his binding if he got himself hitched to someone Living. He'd get Out, and there was of course the added bonus of real _potential_ in that one. He wasn't a pedophile or nothin', he knew he'd have to wait awhile for them to get to know each other _real_ well and let her grow up some, but in the meantime, he could be free as a bird in the Realworld. But when the little girl grew up, he'd seen the possibility of a deeeelightful friendship. Harhar.

He'd wondered about the whole ring thing, afterward. He had had a LONG time to think after being stuck in the thrice-damned Sandworm that Babs bitch roped into eating him. He still hadn't figured out how she'd gotten it into the Realworld, either, without a damn door. Hrumph.

His thoughts went back to the ring. So, he'd said his "I do's" and, well, okay, he had to admit it, he said her "I do's" for her, cause she was just a kid, a female, and them damn females, and kids, well, they always change their minds, like the damn weather with them. It's why he usually had no use for them. Women were good for one thing only, ya know what I'm saying? Well, in Lydia's case, two, she'd been his ticket to ride, eventually in more ways than one. Harhar. He figured on once she got done growin', and growing into her powers, too, well, she had that _spark_.

He actually felt for the kid, the way she looked at him with those big damn eyes when she said she wanted in. Well, he'd have let her in, but not in the way she wanted, he needed her alive and kickin'. But she had that spark to her that he knew would have enabled her, even then, to come over to the Neitherworld when most Living would get their atoms smashed to smithereens just trying to do so. Lydia and him? Hell, they could have had a blast.

What he couldn't figure on was why she wasn't able to get the ring off. He wasn't going to kid himself, she probably burned the dress he'd juiced up for her and tried to get his ring off of her finger the second the damn Sandworm had its first set of jaws around him. He knew once the ring was off, it'd come straight back to his finger. But apparently it wasn't coming off. Maybe she just didn't want to take it off... He shook his mangy head. Nah. Couldn't be that.

He'd asked Juno 'bout it, and the bag just said he needed to " _Think_ things through more before he acted out". Well, damn, thinking is what got them all into this mess in the first place! The Maitland chumps thinking they wanted the Deetzs out, him thinking Lydia was a good way out, the Deetzs thinking exorcising the ghosts in the house would solve everyone's little problems. Babs thinking that hitching a ride back to the Realworld from Saturn on a Sandworm so it could eat him and stop the wedding was a good thing. Hrumph. Thinking gotcha no where but in deep shit, and fast.

What he couldn't stop thinking of was what had happened to his little runaway bride. He feels nothin' for years, and then all of a sudden, the pains and a feeling like someone was trying to summon him, like they got to saying his name twice. He started feelingthe energy, the pull... And then it stopped.

Then nothing. All these years, and nada.

He'd read a bit about different bindings, and figured out that even though they hadn't gotten hitched by either the Neitherworld or Realworld laws, they had made a connection when he placed the ring on her finger with the intent on marrying her.

It meant the ring was a conduit for a binding. He would feel her strongest emotions. Nothing like a scare at a movie, or if she was happy 'bout getting a new dress or whatever girls liked, but a major, life changing or life threatening event.

And from what old June Bug said, that November night had been a pretty damn big event.

He still itched to get out and find out just what happened, for a couple of reasons. One, Betel was just a damn curious old fool - he wanted to solve the mystery. And two, dammit, he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he'd sorta wound up liking the skinny little morbid kid with the big streak of "Seeing" energy in her.

When Juno told him about what happened, his already cold body felt colder, if that was even possible. What was done to those kids wasn't kosher, in his book. One thing to scare 'em and maybe even cop a feel, but to kill them and torture them and then burn them in their beds? Damn. That was some evil shit he wasn't even capable of.

And it was worse for Lydia, she was still stuck with the fucker, Juno be damned, there was only a few ways she wouldn't have wound up back at the Fun House stuck haunting with the Maitlands. One, she wasn't dead, or two, someone must have bound her with somethin' mighty powerful. Someone who had the ability to slip through all of the Realworld's and Neitherworld's radar. The damn murder was never solved.

He didn't like to think about that, about if she was still alive what she was suffering…

But here he was, thinking about it again, like he did, every damn day, for the past fifteen years, dammit.

Betel swore and threw the bottle of crap he had been swilling from across the room, taking a small satisfaction in the brittle shattering sound it made when it hit the wall. The wall had a large number of similarly smashed bottles at its base and was covered with the stains and slime of the contents of said bottles.

He pushed himself out of his chair and went to go see Juno, again, just like he did, everyday, for the past fifteen years, to bug the old bat into letting him out a bit to go for a look-see. Maybe sometime this century he'd wear her down far enough to get her to do it.

He'd tried to stay out longer when he'd get called out for a job, but he was never able to get to where she had been because he was bound to stay in the same Functional Perimeters as the ghosts he was hired by, damn curse.

He'd even tried to weasel out a deal with his clients each time to see if they'd let him out out for a bit after the job was done, but nope, he always got his name called again thrice and wound up back in the piss hole he was forced to call home. When he tried to stay out longer or leave the immediate area of where he was called, he was never able to get to where she had been because he was bound to stay in the same Functional Perimeters as the ghosts he was hired by, goddamn curse.

He wished Juno would listen to reason, but she wouldn't, would always tell him that there was no way she was falling for it, that he wasn't going to let him con her into letting him into the Realworld to run willy-nilly, wreaking his usual form of mayhem everywhere he went. Even after the first year when he could see that she actually believed him, that he was just going to try to find the girl, she would shake her head no and tell him it was hopeless, she was off the radar and out of her jurisdiction. Which gave Betel pause for thought... Juno never gave up on a soul, and she could track the Living as well as the Dead.

He told himself he'd give it a shot with the old smokestack just one more time for the umpteenth thousandth time since Lydia disappeared from the damn murder scene over fifteen years ago.

Hell, a guy had to have a daily routine, ya know?


	4. Chapter 3: Goodbye & Hello

_**Chapter 3: Goodbye & Hello**_

 _November, 1979_

Lydia had known, since she was a little girl, that she was different.

She was sitting on the couch in the little waiting room of the ICU in the dreary, sad hospital, idly listening to the sound of a long, loud beep that suddenly came from the nurse's station across from the waiting room.

She looked up briefly as a few of the nurses rushed out of the room and down the hall.

She was coloring in her coloring book when her mother walked up to her.

"Mommy! You're all better now!" Five-year-old Lydia jumped up and wrapped her little arms around her mother. She paused and looked up at her mother's dear face. "Mommy? Why are you so cold? It feels like you've been walking outside in the winter without your coat on."

Her mother crouched down to her and hugged her back, fiercely.

"I know I'm cold, baby. I have something to tell you. Come sit down here on the couch with me so we can talk, we don't have much time. Your daddy will be out soon."

"Where's Daddy? Why didn't he come out of your room with you? Is he packin' your stuff up so we can go home now?" Lydia looked up at her mother, confused.

"No, Pumpkin. Daddy's still in the room, and he needed some time before he came out and saw you." Lydia's mother's eyes teared up, and Lydia watched, wide eyed, as the tears began to fall.

Her Mommy _never_ cried. Even when the doctors told her she was really really sick, and she was going to die and leave her and Daddy, her Mommy hadn't cried, she just looked sad and nodded and told her and her Daddy that things would be okay. Mommy was the strong one in their family, and Lydia wanted to be just like her. Her Daddy always said she had her Mommy's hair and her eyes, and that she was strong like her too.

"Lydia, sweetheart, I'm not all better now. I'm not hurting anymore, though."

"That's great, Mommy!" Lydia smiled, happy again. She knew her Mommy had been hurting an awful lot for awhile. Even though she was good at hiding it, Lydia could tell.

"Honey, listen, we don't have much time. Baby, I'm... I'm not alive anymore. I passed on, honey. I'm not going to be able to stay around to help you and Daddy." Lydia's smile left her face, as she listened to the words her mother told her and tried to process them.

"How are you here then, if you're not alive?"

"Because I was allowed to say goodbye, sweetheart." Her mother's voice hitched as she tried to hide a sob that came out of her throat. "I have to go now, and I'll be watching you, sweetie, but I won't be allowed to stay with you anymore."

Lydia knew her Mommy had been very, very sick for a long, long time, and she and Daddy had warned her that she was going to have to go away, but she'd obviously hoped they were wrong. People were always saying to her that "Doctor's don't always get it right, and if you pray real, real hard, sometimes people got better". She had been praying every night, and during the day, too, but her Mommy hadn't been getting any better. She didn't want her to go, but she knew, deep down, that she didn't have a choice in the matter, and neither did her Mommy. She could put up a fuss, but it wouldn't make it any different. Lydia started to cry quietly, determined to be strong like her Mommy.

"Will I see you again?"

"Yes, sweetie, someday, you will, if you want it to be. I know it's different for different people, but good people like you and I will always wind up in the same place eventually."

"You mean Heaven, Mommy?"

"Something like that, Pumpkin. You and I, we're different. I've always been able to see what lies ahead of us, and things around us, that other people can't see. Some people go to "Heaven", some go someplace in-between. You sometimes have a choice of where you go and sometimes you don't, it all depends on the person. But people like us always eventually go to the same place. You and I will see each other again, someday. But for now, I want you to grow up, big and strong, and see everything that you can possibly see with those big eyes of yours." She hugged little Lydia close.

"The same big eyes you have, right?"

"Yes, baby, the same eyes I have. You'll be able to see and learn things that others can't. Remember that, okay? It'll always help you."

"I love you, Mommy. I'm happy you're not hurting anymore, but I'm going to miss you so _so_ much." Lydia held onto her mother's waist as hard as she could, not wanting to ever let go.

She felt a few tears fall onto the top of her head. She thought it was strange how her Mommy could feel so cold, but her tears still felt warm on her head.

"And I'm going to miss you, sweetheart, so _so_ much." Her mother hugged her as close as she could. "Remember I love you, Lydia, I'll always love you, no matter what. Remember to be a good girl, listen to your Daddy, and see everything around you, keep your big eyes open. Don't close yourself off. I promise we'll see each other again. I have to go now, baby. I'm so sorry I won't be able to be with you and Daddy anymore. Remember what I've told you, and always, always remember I love you, more than anything."

"I love you too, Mommy." Lydia was crying hard herself, now, still holding on to her hand as her mother slowly and reluctantly stood up off of the couch and broke their embrace. "I won't forget you, and I'll remember what you said."

"Always remember the light in your heart and your eyes, baby. As long as you know and remember that light, you'll be okay. Nothing that ever happens to you will ever be able to take that light away."

"I will Mommy. I love you." She couldn't stop crying, even though she wanted to be strong.

Her mother bent down and placed one last, long kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Be well and safe, baby. I'll always be there when the Fates say it's the right time, okay? I love you."

Lydia looked up, and her mother was gone.

She sat on the cold, hard vinyl covered couch, and grabbed a few Kleenex out of the box on the table next to her. She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. She felt a deep, deep loss. She felt something was now missing. She knew also that her Mommy was okay now, and wasn't hurting any longer. She took a deep shuddery breath and looked around her. She saw a nurse behind the open partition window at the nurse's station, looking at her with wide eyes, as if she were afraid. Lydia didn't know why the lady would look at her like that.

"Wasn't my Mommy pretty?" She asked the nurse who was still staring at her. "She was always so pretty. I'm happy you got to see her like she really is, not when she's all sick and stuff."

The nurse stared back at her, and finally managed to talk to the little girl.

"I'm sure she is, honey. Who was it your were just talking to? An imaginary friend?"

Lydia looked at the lady like she had two heads. "There's no such thing as 'maginary friends. Everyone knows that. That was my Mommy." Lydia stopped, and thought hard in her little head for a moment as she tried to process the scared and strangely sad look on the nurse's face. "You didn't see my Mommy when she was sitting here on the couch with me, huh?"

The nurse quickly and nervously shook her head. "Uh uh. Honey, are you okay? You seemed like you were really sad..." The young woman trailed off as the nurses who had left the room came back into the station and looked over at Lydia, and bent down to whisper something in the lady's ear. Whatever they said made the lady's eyes go wide as she continued to stare at Lydia.

Lydia looked at the nurse, and knew her Mommy was right, she was different. She knew the nurse hadn't been able to see Mommy like she had. She knew right then if she ever saw another dead person, that unless she wanted to get stared at like the nurse was staring at her, she was going to have to be quiet and not talk to them while Living people were around.

She was still crying a bit, feeling the emptiness inside her chest she knew was her loss, even though she knew Mommy was out there, somewhere. It was better this way, knowing that Mommy hadn't just stopped _being_. She still was someplace, and not hurting anymore, even if she couldn't be with her and Daddy. She looked away from the nurse's station as she saw Daddy coming down the hall, his hand held to his eyes, obviously crying.

Lydia reached over and grabbed another few Kleenex as Daddy sat down on the couch next to her and handed them to him. Charles took them with a sad little smile, and wiped his eyes and blew his nose, too, just like she had. Lydia reached over and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's going to be okay, Daddy."

"Pumpkin, your Mommy... your Mommy's..." he broke off, sobbing, as he looked at his little daughter who looked up at him with tear filled eyes so much like his wife's.

"I know, Daddy. She's "passed on". It's going to be okay."

Charles looked down, letting out a sob. "Honey, how did you know? Was it the nurses? Or the doctors? If they talked to you, I'll..."

"No, Daddy, Mommy came out to tell me she loved me and that I had to remember my light. She came out here to say goodbye just now before you came out. It'll be okay, we'll see her again someday."

Charles looked at his child and knew she was a gift. From whom, he didn't know, but she must have taken after her mother for more than her big eyes. He gave up trying to hide his tears and pulled Lydia onto his lap and just held her as they both cried.

That was how Lydia found out she was different.

The first ghost that she talked to was her mother.


	5. Chapter 4: Growing Up

_**Chapter 4: Growing Up**_

 _Europe, September 1992_

Lydia Deetz was eighteen-years old, and for once in her life, felt pretty much complete. She had graduated from high school in Winter River, Connecticut, with high honors, and had decided to take some time to travel through Europe with a couple of her, well, okay, she could admit it, her _only_ close friends, Bertha and Prudence before they did the whole college/university thing. Her father, albeit nervously (but when was her poor Dad _not_ nervous?) paid for the three of them to go abroad for several months as a graduation gift after Delia had unbelievably sided with Lydia that it was "the thing to do" and nagged her father into it. The girls had been delighted, and Lydia had to admit that although she missed her entire family, she really needed to get out and see the big world outside of the City and Winter River.

Bertha and Prudence had never really been outside of Winter River before, not counting a couple of weekend and day trips into the City for the usual museum and shopping trips, and even then, their eyes had always been as big as saucers, staring at all the people that ranged from the "normal" (at least for the City) to the ones that dressed so outlandishly, even Lydia had had to stop a few times and assess whether they were alive or an eccentric ghost, like... Beetlejuice.

Lydia spun the gold ring around on her finger like she always did when she thought of the crazy ghost. She had gotten over the whole incident rather quickly. Being who she was, she took the strange and unusual in stride. Alright, she could admit he was more "strange and unusual" than even the oddest unusual entity, but she had somehow never really felt truly threatened by the ghost. Yes, he was disgusting with his mannerisms and mold, and yes, he had coerced her into an "marriage of convenience" by taking advantage of a traumatic situation. She was being forced to watch as her friends the Maitlands got horribly exorcised by one of Otho's patented bumbling and big mistakes.

She had balked at the "altar", of course, she had been fifteen for gods sakes and didn't know which way her head was pointed at that moment, literally. One second she was in her usual baggy, black clothes, the next she was in a garish red tutu-like wedding dress being pulled across the living room floor by an unseen force and grabbed by the eager ghost, being hauled up to a warped looking dwarf and having to hear her own voice come out of said ghost's grungy mouth, saying things she was certain that she wasn't certain that she wanted to say, deal or no deal.

One of the things that had always bothered her about the whole ordeal ironically was did he want to marry her just because he saw her as a way "Out", or was it because he possibly actually liked her a bit, too? And the other thing that had bothered her... Why in the hell did she even care enough to bother to wonder?

Granted, the entire space of their interaction up to the point of the debacle of a wedding was two ten-minutes-or-so conversations, so it was a bit hard to be able to decide if one actually _liked_ someone, let alone would be a suitable marriage partner, but she had actually felt that he actually was someone who could have understood her.

When she had told him that she wanted "In", thinking that maybe, possibly, she could find her mother where ever he was from for one brief and, admittedly idiotic, moment, (in retrospect, she highly doubted her mother was anywhere within several light years of the wacky ghost) he had dropped his hokey con act and actually looked at her like she was a person, something no one else had done in as long as she could remember. When he had asked her 'Why?', that simple, one syllable word had sounded like a bit of a lifeline at that particularly admittedly angsty teenage moment in her life.

He had looked at her as if she wasn't some little kid, like her parents and the Maitlands treated her, or a like a freak the kids at school looked at her with with their thinly veiled disgust and sometimes outright disdain. No, Beetlejuice had looked at her like she was a person, a person with wants and needs that needed to be addressed and recognized just like anyone else.

In retrospect at her ripe old wizened age of eighteen, that was pretty pathetically angsty, if anything ever was. She chuckled to herself in her mind.

Her father and Delia had certainly tried, and they let her do her own thing, to the point of sometimes she felt they just didn't want to bother to try to understand her. But then, they weren't the most "normal" of parents, or people, themselves. I mean, Lydia mused to herself, those in glass houses should never cast that first proverbial stone. Delia's art was darker than just about anything the Maitlands had ever witnessed on their brief visits to the Neitherworld, and they made Lydia's macabre photography look like tourists shots taken at Disney World. And her Dad...well, her Dad was her Dad, as much as she loved him, hell, as much as she loved both of them, when she could now admit that Delia had always tried to be the most supportive she could be when first faced with a rather odd ten-year-old girl who had lost her mother and said she could see ghosts and loving a more than slightly neurotic man enough to marry into their quirky little family.

The Maitlands were wonderful and doting and just what she needed, even if they were dead. But even so, they were completely _normal_.

Which Lydia always had known, since she was a little girl, that she wasn't exactly normal, she was different. She had seen ghosts since her mother had died. Her mother had been the first ghost she had seen.

Since then, she had seen ghosts here and there. Some looked just like regular people, and she had to look twice before she knew what state they were in. Some were really icky, but they couldn't help that. It all depended on how they died, and what frame of mind they were in when they passed. The Maitlands threw her a bit, she didn't know why they hadn't gone on to whatever World her mother had gone to, but then, her mother had been like her and been able to see and talk with ghosts, and she knew about the afterlife. Lydia didn't know how much her mother had known, but she knew that she had known some things about what happened after your soul left it's used up corporeal shell .

She had never forgotten their last conversation in the cold hospital waiting room when she had been five.

Perhaps it was because the Maitlands didn't know about the afterlife and hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about it, or perhaps the fates had deemed them needed where they were, but, even though Lydia felt bad that they were stuck in the house for another

one-hundred-and-twenty-one years or so, she still felt glad that they were there with her and her father and stepmother; they were like another set of parents to her.

She sighed as she went back to spinning the ring as she looked out the train window as it sped along, trying to ignore the sound of Bertha's loud snoring as she slept in the seat across from her. Prudence had her nose stuck in a book and was in her own world, much like Lydia.

Again, her thoughts trailed traitorously back to the striped chaos that almost wound up being her husband. She looked down at the old, gold ring, ostentatious, but somehow, _her_. She didn't wear any other jewelry besides the ring. She slid it down past her knuckle, but didn't take it completely off her finger. It just felt...wrong. She had thought about taking it off hundreds of times over the past three years since he had forced the ring on her finger, and had gotten to the point of it hitting her fingernail, before she always slid it right back up to where it just seemed to belong.

Maybe it was cursed, like his name, or something. She just knew it felt wrong to take it off. She told her family that it wouldn't come off, and, luckily, they had believed her and left it be, rather than try to get it off themselves. Barbara had tried to get her to let her try a few times, but Lydia had stuck to her guns and just told her she'd have to cut her finger off to get it off, and that's probably why Beetlejuice had had it on that disembodied finger before he gave it to her. If possible, Barbara had paled even more than her usual ashen shade and let it be, but not before admonishing Lydia not to say his name.

If he didn't like her at all, he just would have dragged her up to that... preacher... and gotten it over with immediately. Maybe it was just his personality, he definitely seemed to be the showy sort, maybe that's why he had gone through the, okay, millisecond time frame of trouble to conjure up that garish tux and her damn tutu. But, he did do it.

She sighed. She did always feel bad, in a way, how he got...eaten by that worm thing. He _had_ dropped her father on his head, but still, he had saved the Maitlands, and she had made a deal with him. She couldn't take it back now, though... Or could she still call him? She didn't think that he was dead, well, deader, after the snake-worm thing, but, you never knew, he seemed like the type that would have come skulking back around after he got out of the situation that she and her family had put him in and would be either looking to finish the deal or at least get a little revenge, or both. As of yet, she hadn't seen any miniscule Beetle ghost, and as of yet, she hadn't been brave enough to try to say his name the three times to call him again either.

She stopped her fiddling with the ring and looked out the window once more. Beautiful scenery of farmland and fields flew by, looking much like the fields back home in the States in New England.

She and the girls were now in France, after spending over a month in London and trekking around to all the relevant tourist spots throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland for the past three months. Stonehenge and Wiltshire had been a bit touristy, but still impressive and filled with mystery and energies that Lydia had felt coursing through her body. There were many other ancient and mysterious sites scattered over the English countryside.

There was just so much to see, to do, the days just seemed to fly by. It had taken them a whole week to just get through the Victoria and Albert museum, and the B.M.? My god, it was like its own metropolis with its awe-inspiring atrium built around the old Victorian building, and then wing after wing added. She had never wanted to leave the Egyptian wing, and she had spent over and hour sketching and photographing the Rosetta Stone, much to Bertha's annoyance. Prudence had been with her the whole time though, her nose stuck in one of her ever present books, reading out loud about the history and theories behind the stone.

Then there had been the Tower. Lydia had been disappointed by all the modern buildings surrounding such a historic spot, taking away from it's ambiance. And yes, she had hoped in her own twisted way to see Anne Boleyn scurrying down a hall with her head tucked under her arm and to be able to ask her how much of a pompous asshole King Henry the VIII had _really_ been, but, alas, all the resident ghosts had long since passed their mandatory haunting time frame. And a group of German tourists had drove her batty complaining about the lack of...ESCALATORS or LIFTS as they climbed up and down the narrow, winding stone stairwells built to defend the tower against any enemy intruder. Oh. My. God. And it was a shame that they couldn't see the Crown Jewels. She had read stories of a ghost _BEAR_ in the tower that supposedly defended the Jewels...that would have been deadly vou.

After France, they were going to go to Italy and Rome for a bit, and then home to the States for the holidays, none of them wanting to be away from their families for that. As it was, it was the longest any of the girls had been away from home, but, they were all adjusting nicely, as they were now officially _adults_.

Lydia chuckled to herself, thinking about how Bertha had completely come out of her shell and was Miss Adventurous and Daring now, always wanting to go clubbing and meet guys. She had grown up out of her gangly awkward mid-teens stage, just as Lydia and Prudence had. They were both good-looking girls now, but, well, Lydia… Lydia couldn't always see it herself, but she was something else.

Lydia wasn't totally blind to her reflection in the mirror, and she wasn't blind to the stares that people gave her, both men and women, some with envy, some with obvious lust, some with just stares of surprise. She had always been a bit sensitive to people staring at her, but as she grew older and her body blossomed and grew, _she_ grew into her body, and became more comfortable in it. She never flaunted herself, though, or called attention to herself anymore than her looks already did. She could look in the mirror and admit to herself that she was good-looking, (she was most definitely underestimating herself) and she liked her hair now that she had grown out of the mega-goth look and let it grow out of the chopped-up bangs and spikes and let it grow long and natural, and she knew her eyes always drew people's compliments. She was happy with herself, but she was still quiet and introspective, and wasn't flamboyant. Her wardrobe still consisted of all dark hues, but it was more tailored and conservative. And thanks to Delia's expensive label-conscientious tastes, it was high class, yet still subdued. To the knowing eye, with the well cut and luxurious fabrics draping a figure that would make an hourglass turn green with envy, and with her own natural beauty, outward and inward, she was a stunner.

Bertha, on the other hand, was the flamboyant one of the three. She still hadn't become comfortable with herself enough yet to just _be_ herself. Whenever they went to a even somewhat metropolitan city, she would bust out with her "club gear" and insist that Lydia and Prudence "go with", and would lend them more provocative clothes and coax them into them to go "bar hopping" with her. Although clubbing was fun sometimes for Lydia, as she liked to dance, there was a point of when enough was enough, and poor Prudence acted like a martyr going to the burning before she walked into whatever place Bertha had found for them to "investigate".

Bertha loved to get attention from men, never having gotten any while they were growing up and in school. She used her looks that she had admittedly gotten quite a bit of like a new toy, and her outgoing and gregarious personality complimented them perfectly. She worried Lydia, though, as Bertha was still pretty innocent and wouldn't really know what to do if one of her admirers got too pushy. Luckily, they had all just had fun so far, but still, Lydia worried. There had been a few times that she and Pru had had to drag a madly giggling and drunk Bertha away from a gaggle of admirers, both Bertha's, Lydia's, and even Prudence's. (Lydia's looks always attracted men to her like a moth to a flame, even though she sent out every possible signal to "back off", and Pru's sitting in a corner with a book seemed to give some men a feeling of a challenge.)

In Sussex, seemingly a sleepy little suburb, it became quickly apparent that it hid a crazy nightlife, being close to a couple of universities, and being so close via train to London. As soon as they opened their mouths, the men flocked to the "American Girls". Lydia and Pru would have to snag Bertha and climb into a cab to go back to whatever hotel or inn they were staying at so she could sleep it off. So far, they had been lucky, but if anything ever was to happen... It wasn't as if any of them were experienced in how to stave off the advances of a drunken and adamant paramour.

Again, Lydia wondered if she was ever in truly serious trouble, if she would call back the ghost that she had left at the altar. Would he even come? Would he be able to? Would he even _want_ to? And if he did, how did she know he wouldn't just lend a helping hand to whomever or whatever problem Lydia had found herself in, theoretically, mind you.

She sighed aloud again, and Pru looked up from her book. A quick glance at the cover showed it was Fodor's Guide To Paris and France. It figured, Prudence was nothing but prepared.

"Well, of course, as we discussed, we most certainly will have to go to the Louvre. I expect it will take us at least four days to properly see it all. Then, of course, there will be the delightful Parisian nightlife..." She sighed, looking over at the still sleeping Bertha meaningfully and looking back at Lydia.

"Oh god, yeah, I know. At least we talked her out of Amsterdam or Berlin, for god's sakes."

Both Prudence and Lydia laughed. Lydia looked out the train window again.

"We'll be pulling into Le Grande Paris in about twenty minutes, by my calculations. The trains do run quite on schedule here." Prudence's matter-of-fact way of speaking was always a secret amusement, in a fond way, to Lydia.

"Well, let's wake up sleeping beauty now. Don't want her to have her batteries too charged for tonight. She'll have us in every damn club in Paris before our first night is through."

Prudence laughed as she reached over and put her thick traveler's guide under Bertha's nose and snapped it shut with a loud bang.

"What? What? We here yet?"

Lydia and Prudence laughed, and Bertha good naturally joined in.


	6. Chapter 5: Bienvenue à l'Hôtel St Merry

_**Chapter 5:**_ _ **Bienvenue à l'Hôtel Saint Merry**_

 _Paris, France_

 _September, 1992_

Inside an abandoned seven-floor, 70 room house near the catacombs, hundreds of revelers, some in floor-length gowns, curly white wigs and feathered masks gathered on a very late Friday night.

In a front parlour, a nearly nude woman with a giant bouffant and flower-adorned underwear performed a sultry dance whilst wearing pink angel wings, while a contortionist spouted florid obscenities as he thoroughly ploughed into the recesses of another nude reveler. At the bottom of a sweeping grand staircase, a quartet performed Mozart's Requiem in D minor, K.626 while couples waltzed.

Lydia and Prudence sat in a deserted corner and surveyed the smoky room, keeping an eye on Bertha as she drunkenly waltzed with her newest paramour.

 _ **************** Four Hours Earlier...**_

The three Americans had gotten off of the train at Gare du Nord, left the crowded thoroughfare by the closest exit, and approached the nearest cab in the queue at the curb. The driver popped the boot, got out to help the girls get their bags, and held the door open to the big black Mercedes as they piled in.

"Où les filles?" The driver asked, smiling and showing his perfect white teeth.

"L'hôtel le plus proche s'il vous plaît…" Prudence was their spokeswoman, as Lydia only knew a smattering of high school French (to please Delia) and was not confident in speaking it, and Bertha had never applied herself to learn.

"Oh, Americans! Welcome! Yes, yes, I know which is perfect - Hotel Saint Merry." The driver said in beautifully accented English. "It is very beautiful. Was part of a parish church, you know? Very fine hotel. Yes, yes, it is very beautiful, just like you lovely filles." The driver looked at the girls in his rearview, flashing his charming smile again. "Do you have many plans for our city?"

"Ooooh, yes!" Bertha chimed in. "We want to see it all! Do you have any ideas?"

"Oh, I have plenty of ideas, but I do not know if young ladies as yourselves would be interested!' The driver winked and laughed flirtatiously. "Do you want to enjoy the nightlife?"

"YESSSSSSSS!" Bertha shrieked in the enclosed space, much to Lydia and Prudence's dismay.

"Well, you are very lucky! I happen to know la conciergerie at Saint Merry. He knows all of the best spots, better than what any tourist books will tell you" he laughed, looking at Prudence's Fodor's.

"The Saint Merry, you said? On Rue de la Verrerie? It's in here, and has four stars." Prudence said while glancing in her tour book, pushing her glasses up her nose. "It looks really nice Lydia, right up your alley. Very gothic yet modern."

"Sounds good to me ladies. We said we weren't going to pre-book so we could have an adventure and make our schedules as we went along. It's up to you." Lydia said, smiling.

"Ooooh, let's stay at this hotel that our dashing driver... What was your name, hon?" Bertha looked to the driver, blinking her big eyes and flipping her long wavy chestnut curls.

"Xavier Dupont de Ligonnès, but you may call me Xav." the handsome cabbie winked.

"Pleased to meet you Xav!" Bertha cooed.

A small frown crossed Lydia's brow. The name sounded familiar... She searched her memory, but came up with nothing, so let it go and enjoyed the moment.

The sleek auto pulled up to a four-storey white marble stone building with "ST MERRY" in elegant serif brass font at the door. Xav hopped out, opening the door for the girls. Even though it was night, the Ville des Lumières was true to its name and the street was brightly lit. Lydia paused to take an artistically angled photo of the reflection of the hotel on the gleaming cobblestone street. She took the shot, then noticed Xav was standing next to her, his doppelgänger's white teeth shining bright even in the puddle of water.

"So sorry, mon cher." He stepped aside.

The door to the hotel opened, and an elegantly dressed bellboy emerged with an ornate brass luggage trolley. He made quick work of the trio's bags, stacking them neatly.

Xav led the way through the gleaming modern lobby. Here and there, amongst the luxurious aqua colored velvet divan and modern Chihuly-inspired chandelier, the building's gothic origins shone through with a bit of 18th century stonework showcased next to the sleek, minimalist amenities. The juxtaposition of the varying styles worked well.

They approached the front desk, where Xav tapped on a discreet bell on the counter. A balding but handsome middle-aged man came out of a side door behind the expanse of black marble.

"Henri, my friend! These belles dames are visiting us from the USA. I have told them you know of all of the best places for them to _experience_ all the night has to offer in Paris." Xav introduced them.

Henri and Xav looked at one other, seemingly silently relaying information. Lydia watched their interaction.

Henri broke the staring contest with his compatriot first, and his hospitality professionalism quickly came to the fore. "Oui, oui, bonjour mademoiselles. I have the perfect soirée in mind for you. It is very secret, you know? But I will give you my calling card to take, and they will welcome you."

"Ooooh, very sucray… That sounds so elegant!" Bertha giggled.

"He said it's very secret. Why is it secret?" Prudence asked with a roll of her eyes at her naive friend.

"Well, they do not just let anyone in. Only the most beautiful, such as yourselves. This way, everyone has the best time, with the best sort of people. But first, let me get you settled in your rooms."

With this, Xav bowed with a flourish.

"Goodnight, ladies. I might see you again later, perhaps?" He reached for Bertha's hand and gave it a light kiss, giving her a wink, which caused the girl to blush while nodding. He turned for the door.

"Wait, your fare?" Lydia called after him.

"Being able to meet you all was fare enough. Au revoir pour le moment."

"If I could just get the formalities done, mademoiselle, and then I will give you the directions and the information for the soirée." Henri distracted Lydia from her puzzlement at why Xavier turned down his commission.

"Do not worry about him, cher. He only drives pretty women such as yourselves for the joy of it, not the money!" Henri laughed as he took her information, smiling at her Amex platinum card while cross-checking the information from her passport.

Lydia did not feel reassured by Henri's nonchalant attitude at all.

"Renaud! Take the ladies to their suite." Henri called the bellboy over.

The trio of friends followed Renaud to the beautiful mirrored elevator and rode up to the fourth floor where they found themselves in front an elegant set of double doors market "20'.

"Bienvenue à l'Hôtel Saint Merry" Renaud murmured quietly after stacking their bags. "S'il te plait fais attention.'

"Je vous remercie.' Lydia dug up her conversational French and few francs as a tip. After Renaud left, she turned to Prudence. "What did he say after welcoming us to the hotel? Did you get that?"

"He said to be careful. That's a bit of an ominous welcome, don't you think?" Prudence chuckled hesitantly.


	7. Chapter 6: A Turning Point

_**Chapter 6: A Turning Point**_

 _Present Day_

Charles Deetz rocked in his chair as Delia Deetz spoke quietly on her phone.

"Otho, it is what it is. He has good days and bad… The bad ones he just shuts down. He doesn't talk or eat, he doesn't move from his chair. This is one of the bad ones I suppose." She glanced at her husband with tear filled eyes, hoping for some sort of response.

"I don't know, I'm thinking of moving some things around here, redecorating. Maybe that will snap him out of it. I just have to keep busy." she sighed, moving her hand through her short, now platinum blonde hair.

Delia said goodbye to Otho, promising to talk again soon. She hung up the call and walked into her studio, looking around at her body of work.

Her eyes landed on the bust she had made years ago. While well received by critics, it had never sold, and a part of her was happy that it had not. She had put an exorbitant price tag on it, as she was strangely attached to the work. She never delved too deeply into her psyche as to why.

She picked up the heavy sculpture and shouldered the studio door open. Charles, of course, remained the in the same position in his chair. She brought the piece into the living room and placed it on the large marble coffee table, stood back with a tilted head to assess its impact on the room's decor, and decided it was a good job.

Picking up her cell and looking at the screen in her hand, she noticed a missed call and voicemail message from Charles' doctor.

"Hello Mrs. Deetz, this is Doctor Khatri's office calling to let you know that Charles' prescription for Donepezil was approved by your insurance. We'll call it in to your pharmacy and…" Delia ended the voicemail.

"Oh, Charles." Delia sighed, looking down at her husband, rocking in his chair. She walked out of the room.

Charles rocked back and forth, back and forth. His eyes slid from their usual spot - Lydia's photo. They slowly moved to the bust of Beetlejuice, his old antagonist.

"Beetlejuice…" his voice cracked from disuse. "Beetlejuice… _BEETLEJUICE_."


End file.
